


Back In A Flash

by Jaz22



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-06
Updated: 2004-12-06
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaz22/pseuds/Jaz22
Summary: Spoilers: "Fair Game"Summary: Missing scene from "Fair Game" - Daniel’s thoughts after watchingJack whisked away by the Asgard for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 Missing Scene Fanfiction - Back In A Flash

It all happened so fast.

One minute he was standing there, and the next—a flash of yellow light, and he was gone.

It was yellow light, right? Not blue. Couldn’t have been blue. No way it could have been a zat. At least, not a triple zat. 

No. Definitely yellow light.

We were all standing in the gate room, in the middle of that nice ceremony, compliments of General Hammond and the Secretary of Defense. Sam had just been made a Major, and I was happy for her. I really was. I confess, my mind had wandered. I was thinking how glad I was I hadn’t worn the tie with this jacket. I hate ties. Always have. Don’t see any purpose in them. Although, I have to say, I was glad I wasn’t one of the poor Air Force fools surrounding me, dressed to the hilt in their Class A’s. An interesting thing to note here…they have clip-on ties. The kind you wear when you’re seven. Go figure. Fancy uniforms and clip-on ties. Who’d have thought?

Anyway, I was standing there, trying not to tug at my collar, even if I didn’t have a tie on, when Jack gets up to say a few words. Now that in its own merit is something worth paying attention to. Not very often our own commanding officer is given to public speaking. Not unless he’s ranting and raving and generally making the higher-ups eternally anxious.

My gaze follows him as he makes his way up the gate ramp to the podium, and I’m looking right at him when that yellow light thing (got that? Yellow…) happens.

And he was gone.

Just gone.

That was about an hour ago. Now I’m sitting here in the nearly abandoned briefing room. My hands are resting on the table in front of me, a mug of lukewarm coffee cradled between them. There’s a flurry of activity going on around me. Flurry. Me, a linguist—twenty three languages—twenty four, if you count the stuff I picked up when I was helping Jack after the Ancients downloaded their database into his brain, though I’d hardly consider myself fluent—and the best word I can come up with is flurry.

Not such a bad word, really. Has kind of a nice ring to it. Certainly seems to describe what’s happening around here as people breeze in and out, heading through to General Hammond’s office and back down to the control room, or the gate room. All over the base, people are scrambling. Everyone trying to figure out exactly what happened here an hour ago.

Heck, I can tell you * _what_ * happened. My world was rocked. Lost my anchor. Lost my friend. Just gone. Simple as that.

I guess everyone else around here is just trying to figure out the how.

Me, I’m just sitting…hanging with my coffee.

Sam breezes by, a stack of papers in her hand, heading directly into the general’s office. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. After a minute or two, the general purposefully strides out with Sam on his heels. As he takes the steps to the control room, Sam notices me sitting there, and pauses. She’s got that look on her face, that big sister look, and she walks over to where I’m sitting.

"Hi," she says to me.

"Hey, Sam." Scintillating conversationalist, yep, that’s me.

She looks at me intently, searching my face. "You doing okay with this?"

I guess I don’t have an answer to give her. I mean, what exactly am I supposed to say? * _‘Oh, yeah, sure—I’m totally okay with this. Just peachy. So my best friend, nearly the only friend I’ve got in the whole world, just disappears before my very eyes. Why would you think I’d be having a problem with that?’*_

I don’t say anything.

If anything, the look in her eyes becomes even more sympathetic. "We’ll find him, Daniel. We’ll get him back, I promise."

God. Am I really that transparent? Is it so obvious to everyone around here how much I depend on Colonel Jack O’Neill, how much I’ve come to rely on him and his quiet strength?

Didn’t used to be this way. But really, is it asking so much? All my life, I’ve only really ever needed one thing—a constant. Something that keeps the center in my world. A placeholder. 

When I was young, it was easy. My parents were my constant. Didn’t matter where we were, what dig we were on, what country we were in. As long as they were there, my world was right. Then I lost that.

Maybe it was those remaining growing up years, those years without a constant, that made me need one as much as I did. Life is harder when you’re your own constant. Doesn’t quite work as well, but I made it. I learned to rely on no one but myself.

Later, after I’d opened the gate—that first mission to Abydos. That was a little out of my league. A bit more than I could handle. Didn’t want to rely on myself out there, so Jack became my constant. Sort of a temporary appointment. An interim position, if you will. Just for a little while--the duration of the mission. I depended on him, because I had no choice. 

And he let me. 

And he proved worthy.

Then Sha’uri came into my life. It was easy to let my world revolve around her. Her amazing beauty…her gentle touch…those soulful eyes. And to think she thought I didn’t want her—what a laugh. I made her my constant. And for a time, my life was good. Better than good. Almost…perfect.

When I lost her, and was ordered back to earth, I knew I’d lost so much more than just my center. I floundered, standing in that hallway, wearing someone else’s clothes, with not a clue what to do with myself. Jack found me then. Took me home.

Maybe it was as simple as that. I don’t know. All I do know is that since then, the *only* constant in my life has been Jack O’Neill. Until an hour ago, standing in the gate room, when I was left watching the spot where he used to be.

I pull my thoughts away from their wanderings and look up at Sam, giving her a smile which I’d like to think comes across as reassuring. "I know you can, Sam. If anybody can, it’s you."

She pats my arm gently. "Don’t worry about it, Daniel. I promise, okay?"

I push back the chair and stand up, mug in hand, and move towards the far end of the briefing room where the coffee pot sits. "So, how’s it going? You guys figure anything out yet?"

"No. Not much, anyway. We have a few theories that we’re working on…"

My back is to the window at this point as I pour the coffee into my cup, so I don’t see the flash of light in the gate room. But Sam does.

"Daniel! He’s back!"

I turn quickly at the sound of relief in her voice. She’s already halfway down the steps to the control room, but for some reason, I hold back for a minute, carefully placing my mug on the table, trying to ignore the trembling in my hands. I walk over to the window of the briefing room, overlooking the stargate below. I don’t see anything different. Just a bunch of folks rushing out of the gate room. Just…I don’t know. 

I’m not even aware of wrapping my arms around myself. I take a deep breath, and I head for the stairs, quietly stepping down, unnoticed. I hear Jack’s voice, and I smile in spite of myself. He’s telling the general about the Asgard, talking about some sort of treaty, a conference with the Goa’uld… I see him standing there, looking exactly the way he did an hour ago.

The general listens, nodding his head. "Alright, people, let’s take this up to the briefing room. Looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us." He starts up the stairs, heading past me as I stand back in the shadows.

I can pinpoint the exact moment Jack notices me standing there. He walks over to where I am, stopping just a foot or two in front of me. He lays his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back. The witty linguist strikes again.

His eyes, though—his gaze holds mine, just a second or two longer than necessary, assessing, weighing. Doing what he does best. Reading me. Seeing me.

"Miss me?" he teasingly asks with his voice. His eyes more seriously say * _‘You okay?’*_

I smile at him, sort of. "Are you kidding? First peace and quiet we’ve had on the base in I don’t know how long," I hear my voice saying. My eyes, though—they say something different.

I guess I pass muster, because all of a sudden he smiles, and the hand on my shoulder moves and he gently claps the side of my neck, nodding.

Message received and understood.

So, yeah, I guess I am that transparent. I guess everybody in my little corner of the universe does know that Jack O’Neill is the one constant in my life, including the man himself, though I’d never actually tell him.

You know what? I’m okay with that.

**The End**

  


* * *

> © November 2004 The characters mentioned in this   
>  story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I,   
>  the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE   
>  SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright   
>  property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright   
>  Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This   
>  fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant   
>  for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
>  are the sole property of the author.   
> 

* * *

  



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